


There is nothing 'super' about it

by LadyHelheim



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Hunters, Choking, Cussing, F/M, Hunters & Hunting, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Slow Burn, Smut, Swearing, Teasing, Witches, light teasing, smutt in chapter 5, why? cuz I want to
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2019-12-30 04:51:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18308549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyHelheim/pseuds/LadyHelheim
Summary: Sam and Dean save a witch from torture, at the hands of other witches. She is quick to help them out, but will she ever be able to earn their trust? Especially after learning about the source of her more magical abilities.Won't be following all the rules or events of tv showStart out slow, will end up explicit. Sooner or later.





	1. One witch, two witch, no witch, this witch

Damia sat in the cold room, her breath visible. The chains that bound her to the chair left very little wiggle room. The silver collar locked around her throat kept her magic locked inside of her. She was helpless to those who locked her in the room, and what they left her with. Damia wanted to scream, in panic, as she felt an ice cold tendril wrap itself around her wrist. She knew better, she knew better than to give this creature what it wanted. The spirit she was locked in there with was once a witch, drowned in the nearby river. The witches of the coven stole her vengeful spirit and locked it away, as a means of punishing other witches into submission. She watched the white and blue aspersion smiled wickedly, her face cracking like glass at the sides. The door then flew open as the witch was about to scream at her, the spirit turned in shock. She felt something being thrown at her and the ghost vanished, two men coming into her view. Her hope sunk in her chest,  _ Winchesters _ . One of the brother undid her chains, they hadn’t noticed the witch collar that stole her powers. Once he got the chained unlocked he looked up. “Um, Dean?” His voice filled with concern.

“What?” Dean barked at his brother, waiting for the ghost to return, which, she did.

“Look out!.” Damia shouted, the ghosts attention turning back to her. Dean swung around and hit it with something.  Sam grabbed her arm and they ran out the door before the witch could gather even more strength, Damia slammed the door shut and locked it. She turned around slowly, Sam’s eyes fixated on her. She had never felt so much shame in her life. 

“Dean, she’s a witch.” The man looked up at her, her head hung waiting. Surely, death was better than the spiritual torture she was about to endure. The creature banged on the door which made Damia jump in fright.

“Why were you in there?” Dean asked, shock took hold of her tongue. She went to speak, her mouth open, but nothing came out. She wasn’t ready for  _ him  _ to ask her, it went against everything she was ever taught about the Winchester Brothers. He snapped her back to the now, “Hey, hey, anyone home?”

“Sorry. I.” She pulled at the collar that almost threatened to choke her, “I refused to take part in a spell.”

“So they were going to punish you?” She wanted to laugh, it was stupid, she wasn’t even part of the coven.

“Yeah.” Her throat rubbed against the metal, she wasn’t use to the feeling, at least, not like this. “Sorry.” She pointed. “It hurts.” Sam pulled out the coven leader’s keys and showed Dean the one for the collar. He shook his head.

“We can’t trust her, she's a witch.”

“Yeah, a witch that a bunch of witches was going to torture.” The banging on the door came back. “What is her deal anyway?”

“Old Witch, angry, spirit torture.” She managed to get out. Dean and Sam looked at each other, confused. Sam grabbed her arm and turned her around, lifting her blood red hair out of the way. 

“Look, it can be loosened.” She heard the lock click, the pressure on her throat loosened and the lock clicked back in place. Damia placed a hand on the door, breathing deeply, painful tears threatened her eyes. She turned around, hand on her throat massaging the now tender flesh.

“Thank you.” She half sobbed out. She had been tortured before, but nothing nearly as frightening as what almost took place. She understood the danger she was still in, but at least Damia could let them know about the other witches. “There is, another coven here. They have been stealing kids.” 

“Yeah, we know.” Dean said dryly.

“Good.”

“What are you helping us?” Sam questioned her intentions.

“You will probably kill me, but death, it's better than that.” She motioned towards the door. 

“Jury might be out on that, for now.” Sam stated.

“You might be useful, for now.” Damia nodded, she hated the covens that ran this area, forcing witches into paying them for protection from one another, even so much as torturing them until they submitted to being a member. Most joined one out of fear. But Damia was following her grandmother’s wishes, stay true to yourself. 

“What?” Damia asked, surprised and bewildered. 

“Well, you outed other witches, so, you must be helpful.”

“I just don’t want the people in this city to get bullied. They’ve been a, sort of, magical mafia.” She shook her head. “Witches should have a choice about if they want a coven or not.” She folded her arms in anger. 

“Well, one down.” Damia laughed.

“No, this is  _ one  _ of the Black Ribbon Society’s houses. I’m afraid there are more.”

“See, told you.” Dean hit Sam in the arm, Sam rolled his eyes.

“You’ll need more than a few binding spells and some salt.” She pointed out a spell they put on the wall. “To bring Lord Draven down.” She threw her arms up like it was a spooky story to say his name and rolled her eyes.

“You seem impressed with him.” Dean said sarcastically.

“He killed my grandmother, I have a vendetta.” 

“You want to kill him?” Dean said, raising a brow.

“No, I want to make him suffer, crush his fucking head under my boot, for what he did to her.” Their faces paled a little.

“Well, we will need to hide the key.” Sam said as he went to put it in his pocket again. Damia chuckled.

“You really don’t.” 

“We don’t want you to free yourself from the collar.”

“I literally can’t, if I touch that key, it will burn me, cause me unbearable pain.” She showed them on of her hands. “The original person that made this collar, made it so that the wearer couldn’t take it off.”

“Smart person.” Dean smiled.

“It was another witch.” She said coldly. Dean’s smiled fell from his face and a cold and callous look took hold of it. 

  
  


Damia sat quietly on one of the beds at the hotel, they hadn’t stayed in the city once they went and grabbed some things from her apartment. She shuffled her tarot cards and focused on nothing. She was still a little on edge from almost being tortured and almost being shot. Dean and Sam were drinking, looking some things up while she listened to some music on her device. Dean had kidnapped her phone so she couldn’t text or call anyone, but she understood. They were hunters, she was a witch. Lucky for them, she had no friends or family left back home. Even if someone noticed she was missing, they would send other witches after her.  “Hey.” She heard Sam’s voice call again, Damia took her headphones off. “Want a beer?”

“Yes.” She breathed out, putting her cards on the nightstand and getting off the bed, following him to the mini fridge. She popped the top off the dresser and started to chug it, she stopped and breathed out. 

“Holy shit.”

“What?” She said to Dean.

“Pace yourself.”

“What, it’s not like  _ I’m  _ going to driving anytime soon.” She informed him, “Not like I can drive manual anyway. Pops never taught me.” 

“Yeah, about that, how old are you anyway?” She raised a brow to Sam.

“What does it say on my licence?” She replied, taking another sip of beer. Sam narrowed his eyes for a moment. “23, happy?” 

“Really? That's it?” She almost choked on her beer.

“Wow, not all witches are hundreds of years old. It's actually a rarity. At least these days.” She shrugged.

“What does that mean?” Dean questioned.

“Well you know, cancer, sickness, car accidents, hunters. All tragic endings to a witch’s life.” She faked a swoon and took another drink.

“You seem to hate witches.”

“Not all of them, just most of the ones I’ve met. You know, kinda like people, some are just, assholes.” She finished the beer and tossed it into the trash can across the room. “Yes.” She celebrated to herself as it went in. 

“So why don’t you just, you know?” Dean moved his fingers, as though he were mocking someone casting a spell from the tv.

“I might be a witch, but I’m not a murder. And we have a vow, in my family, to never use hexes.”

“That's surprising”

“Its not, its barbaric. Unnecessary. No one should ever intend ill will towards someone. I mean, I watch a woman cast as hex on a man that denied her advances at the bar. I mean, dude is obviously gay, leave him be.” She gestured to the wall, still flabbergasted that she did it. “So I took her to the alley and beat the ever loving shit out of her.”

“Nice.” Dean chimed in.

“No, its what got me caught by the coven. I should have paid more attention to where I was.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

“The bars and other places that are run, owned, or operated by covens or their members are normally marked.”

“What?” Both of the brothers said at the same time. She looked at them, questioning their professionalism, again. 

“You’ve, never notice? There are normally witch brands on the signs, graffitied on the walls on or near the places.”

“Holy shit.” Dean said, sitting back. “That would make it so much easier to find witches.”

“Wow. How long have you two been doing this now?” Dean looked like he had been slapped in the face while Sam was about the chuckled.

“Dean doesn’t like reading.”

“Oh, I get why you wouldn’t know then.”

“Why is that?” Dean questioned.

“You live that the Men of Letters headquarters, don’t you?”

“How the hell?”

“Demons are very into gossip, Dean.” She cut him off, “Literally as soon as the building was operational again, and you started to use some gear that had the sigil, everyone was busy bickering.”

“You talk, to demons?”

“A house party is a house party.” She shrugged.

“Any other surprises?”

“Maybe one, perhaps two.” She smiled.

“And?” Dean pressed.

“You’ll find out soon enough, I do need to keep some secrets, you know. Keep myself alive.” She made her hand into a gun and shot herself in the head. Dean nodded in agreement.

“Can’t blame you.” He said, “But how will we know if you’re telling us the truth.”

“I can point things out, as we drive, or I can help you do a little research if you take me back to the Men of Letters’ building.”

“Like hell we’re bringing you there.” Dean snapped.

“Then bring me some books, I don’t care. If you want or need help, I’m not going anywhere.” 

“So, no handcuffs then?” Sam turned to Dean.

“Are you kidding?” Dean asked him.

“I literally can’t go home, I can’t drive your car, and I’m never going to outrun two coven’s that want me apart of them or dead.” The men turned their gaze back her Damia.

“Why would they want you dead if you don’t join them?” Sam asked.

“You’re not going to like this, but.” She rolled her eyes, “I’m a ‘dark’ witch.” She said sarcastically. “I’m a moon witch. As my grandmother would tell me.” Dean took out his gun. “Go for it, won’t make a difference to me. Its going to happen sooner or later. If its not you, it’ll be someone else.”

“Dean.”

“What. You heard her.”

“She obviously knows more about what is happening than we do. You can’t just shoot her.” Sam breathed out, turning back to her. “Why would they kill you for being a ‘dark’ witch?”

“Because we have a natural ability to cast hexes, but more importantly, we can stop them in their traces. No tricks, no calling on deals. Just a natural ability. It’s why we vowed to never cast hexes.”

“What else can you do?”

“Normal witchy stuff, making things float, snapping my fingers and my hair is dry or the room is clean. That is super useful.” Sam raised his hand.

“Thats not what Dean meant.”

“Oh.” Damia stated, her slight enthusiasm torn to pieces, she looked sheepishly at the floor and then back up at Dean, then Sam. “I can command demons.” She told them.

“What?” Dean said, his gun being placed on the counter.

“Don’t get excited, jeez. Just like, low level demons, or sometimes their dogs.”

“Can you do it without the collar?” He pushed.

“Collar equals no magic. No magic, no magic voice, no magic commands. Afraid that you’re out of luck on that one.” Dean and Sam shared a look, one that was questioning everything what she told them. “You don’t have to believe me, I get it. I’m just the enemy of your enemy, we share the same goals, right now. Trust is not needed right now.”

“True.” Sam agreed with her. Their internal debate decided.

“I can fight though. I know how to fire a gun, so if we end up in a shitty situation, I can hold my own. Without my powers.” She informed them.

“Good, at least you won’t be a damsel in distress.” Sam chuckled.

“Its what pops thought too, taught me how to fire a fun when I was ten, then boxing and kickboxing when puberty hit me. Keep the boys away he said.” She winked. Dean finally loosened up and chuckled.

“How well did that go?”

“Well enough, until I met a few cute ones, then it was pops at the door with a shotgun.”


	2. Black and White

 

Damia stirred in her sleep, the bed of the motel was uncomfortable. She woke up, alone. Again. Her head was foggy from nightmares and dreams, her breath ragged. The brothers had left her for the third night in a row. Dean and Sam could not agree if they should bring her to the Men of Letters hideaway. Arguing, constantly. If she did not know them to be brothers, she would have never have guessed. Dean didn’t even want to trust her with the books that they brought her, Sam wanted to trust her completely. Both sitting on opposite sides of the same coin. Damia wondered if they were always like this, or they had become like this? One foolishly jumping off of cliffs, while the other bound himself to the solid ground. She grabbed her tarot cards, shuffling them mindlessly. Her mind was starting to become clearer as she tried to mentally ground herself back to the now. A card jumped out at her. She turned it over as she caught it, the Queen of Wands. “Hmm.” She verbally pondered. The Queen of Wands was not a card she often got, to trust your instincts. Hers were dark, primal. But this queen was about thinking, before you lept. Taking into consideration the consequences of your actions, to be sure in your direction. She kissed the card in thanks and put her back into the deck, Damia was more confused. _Truth, will come in time. Patience_. She heard her mother’s voice in her mind. She walked around the room, it smelled old, forgotten about. She was thankful, though, that it was silent. Nothing, no cars, no machines, no people. Just the silence that drifted in through the windows with a heated breeze. Damia went to wave her hand to close the window, forgetting about the collar, but it didn’t forget about her. A burning sensation took hold of her skin near the it. She gasped out in a small amount of pain, Damia had to stop forgetting. She almost dropped her cards in the sudden shock. She caught herself on the wall and walked over to close the window. “Fuck.” She said as she locked it. Damia’s gaze was stolen by the small pile of books on the table. She sighed and decided to just start reading again, since sleep was no escape from the things that plagued her during her waking hours. And now, she was wide awake. Damia grabbed a washcloth and ran water over it, putting it in the mini fridge so she could sooth her new injury later.

 

Damia didn’t know how long it had been, it was still dark. But with the music blaring she didn’t hear the boys let themselves in. She jumped as her headphones were yanked off of her head. “Holy fuck.” She breathed out, relieved that it was just them. Sam took the cloth off of her neck and she whined in protest, “don’t touch that.” She said grabbing it and putting it back.

“What the hell did you do to your neck?”

“Trying to escape.” Dean said darkly shooting a look to his brother, Damia knew that if her looks could kill anyone right now, that Dean would be dead.

“No, actually.” She sighed irritably, “I forgot I was wearing the fucking thing when I woke up and tried to close the window.”

“You got a, burn, from the window?” Dean asked, his stupidity filling the space between them. Although, she couldn’t entirely tell if it was stupidity, or really good sarcasm.

“You really are, unbearably, dense. I forgot I was wearing the collar, tried to magic the window closed from across the room, and was given an extremely rude reminder.” She said pressing the now warming cloth against her skin. “Gotta stop forgetting.” She half mumbled to herself.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked, genuinely concerned.

“It fucking hurts, but I’m not dead.” She replied, “I have another cold cloth in the fridge.” Damia stood up but Dean was already at the fridge, tossing the cold rag at her. He clapped his hands and she threw the old one at him and he put it back in. Damia put the cold cloth on her neck and sighed in relief.

“How long ago?”

“Hmm?” She questioned Sam’s voice as she turned around to look at him.

“How long ago did this happen?” He gesture to his neck.

“What time is it?”

“4 in the morning.” Sam replied.

“What?” Damia half yelled, she had been up for just over 4 hours, “then, like 4 hours ago?”

“And it still hasn’t stopped stinging?”

“Its magic, it's not going to stop for a while. First time I did it, it took, shit, a hold day to let up.” She sat back on the bed as the boys took the chairs at the table, “I mean, it was a whole 4 days before my hand stopped hurting after I went for the key. _That…_ fucking felt like hellfire.” Damia wanted to laugh, it _was_ funny. It was so amusing, seeing as hellfire was the only way that they were able to kill her great grandmother. Damia, one other the hand, could be killed by getting her head cut off or her heart ripped out. Also, if you put enough bullets in anything, it wasn’t going to get up. Which is why hellfire was such a good decision when it came to demon spawn.

“Are you, going to be okay?”

“I’ll live, and I’ll have a scar for a little while.”

“A little while?” Dean cocked his brow.

“Well yeah, if this ever comes off I can magic it healed, if not, I’m probably dead. Either way, only for a little while.”

“You know, Damia, you're kind morbid.

“I’m realistic, Sam. _You_ should understand, of all people. Being hunters, your life could end tomorrow, I live the same life, on a different side of the coin.”

“What do you mean?” Damia sighed.

“I told you I’m being hunted, by witches. Join or die. I’ve been running my whole life, fighting off Lord Draven and Lord Silver. My whole family has, trying to keep the peace. It's why we use to live out in the country, in our small town. But, neither of them would back down. Now I’m the only person left alive carrying the Graves name.” Damia tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear, “Then, on top of that, I have to fight off hunters.” She shrugged, “I have people wanting me dead on all fronts Sam. So, yeah, I might be a bit morbid, but I am realistic. I will die. And probably soon. No matter how careful or ‘powerful’ I am.” Damia felt bitter, sad, and angry. She wanted the days on the farm with her grandfather and grandmother again. Sure her parents died when she was young, but those days with them. They raised her, loved her. She missed them, dearly. A tear ran down her cheek.

“You don’t seem okay with it.” Sam came and sat on the bed. Damia leaned away from him in shock. He was trying to comfort her, she looked quickly at Dean who looked rather concerned.

“I’m tired.” She snapped at them, she looked back at Sam.

“And I’m normally honest when I’m drunk.” Damia rolled her eyes.

“Dean, if you had an honest fucking bone in your body I would.” She stopped talking. There was a sound, faint, but she heard it. A flutter of moths.

“Would what.” Damia put a finger to her mouth and shhhed Dean.

“Pull the blinds closed, now.” She demanded in a whisper. Dean and Sam did as they were told, she pulled a knife from her pillow and Dean went to take it from her but she caught his hand. She reminded the boys to be quiet. The fluttering sound grew louder.

“What is that?” Sam whispered, she breathed out.

“I really hope I’m fucking wrong, but it might be a demon.”

“What?” Dean almost spoke too loud.

“Shut up.” Damia walked to the door and listened, there was silence, she breathed out but then there was a knocking at the door. She waved for the boys to duck behind a wall and put her finger to her lips once more. Damia put her hand on the door handle and the lock. “Yes?” She tried to sound like she just woke up. Three loud knocks. Impatient. “What.” Damia said darkly.

“There's _my_ girl.” A voice sounded on the other side, “Now, be a good little _bitch_ , and open this door.”

“Not a fucking chance dick weed.”

“I’ll kick it down if you’re not going to play nice _Day_. I know you’re still wearing that collar girl, I can feel it.” Damia backed off.

“Fuck yourself.” The demon did as promised, kicking the door in.

“Oh, how now. Is that any way to treat the demon who is rescuing you?”

“Oh fuck off Demetre, like you’re here on any accord of your own. Draven sent you.”

“Wrong, it was Silver this time, stooping this low, gotta be impressed.”

“Not in the slightest.” Her grip tightened on the blade. She lunged for him and cut him on the arm as he threw her against the wall. Damia’s head hit it hard, but she wasn’t going to go down without a fight. As Demetre stalked toward her she hear the sound of a gun cocking.

“You heard the girl.” Dean stated, gun against the demon’s head. The smirk he was wearing fell and he looked dead into Dean’s eyes.

“Winchester.”

“Winchesters.” She corrected him, Sam coming out with a bible in hand. He was talking in Latin, banishing the demon, “Have a nice trip back, bitch.” Damia said stabbing him again in the chest, withdrawing the knife just as Sam finished and the demon disappeared.

“What the fuck?” Dean asked.

“What, now, he gets back, and dies.” She picked up the cloth that fell off of her and whipped off the blade.

“But the vessel.” Sam protested

“No vessel. Demetre, has, and if he survives, will always be, just a demon.” She sighed.

“He seemed to know you.”

“Yeah. Family curse, I guess.” She sighed, she had dated him for a little while, not entirely knowing who he was, or what he was tasked with doing. He tracked her for years, she had become an obsession. Trying to recreate what her great, great grandfather achieved. A hybrid bloodline. Lord Draven wanted it too. An army.

“Nah ah.” Dean waved his finger, as Sam began to pack, “You’re not off the hook.”

“He wants to make a fucking army of half witches, half demons. Lord Draven wants the same thing.” She blurted out angrily.

“What?”

“Don’t act so shocked. Draven doesn’t want me because I am a ‘dark’ witch, because I can command demons. He wants me because he thinks it would be easier to breed me, rather than starting from scratch.” Damia froze, her words filling the air around her, she looked back to Sam and Dean who had stopped in their tracks “Fuck.” She almost whispered, looking into Dean’s piercing green eyes, he raised the gun.

“So, you’re telling, that you’re half demon?” She breathed out, when death knocks, it's terrifying. No matter how many times you brushed his shoulders or joked about it, when he knocked. Well. It was scary, even for someone who had seen so much of it.

“No, that would have been my great grandmother, father was a demon, mother was a mortal.” Damia could _hear_ her voice shaking.

“And?” Dean pressed, Damia could see Sam was still packing up all the books. If she was going to die, she might as well tell Dean what they needed to know.

“She grew up, fine, some magic here and there, so she told me, but she then met my great grandfather, Lord Draven’s brother. They had my pops, pops had my mum, she had my sister, brother, then me.”

“And they’re, all dead?” Dean questioned.

“Every single one of them, and I’m soon to follow. Just, do me a favour? Use hellfire when you go after Draven, make him pay for what he did to my family.” Damia closed her eyes, she was ready, but didn’t want to watch. She could feel her knees trembling.

“Do it yourself.” Dean seethed. Damia’s eyes rushed open, wide in shock.

“What?” She stammered, the gun lowered. “But, I. What?”

“I’m not a delivery service.” He stated, Sam had her backpack and his bag in his hands. She was in such a state of shock that she didn’t even register Sam taking the blade from her. “You want revenge, then you’re going to do it yourself.” Dean pushed passed her.

“You’re, leaving me here? With this fucking collar still on?” She was pissed, it was a death warrant, or even worse. Probably the worse option. If another demon was sent, or more than one, she would be utterly defenseless, nothing to protect herself with. She couldn’t use runes, magic, or anything else that held magic. It would trigger the cage around her neck.

“Never said we’re leaving you.” He turned around at the door, his face twisted with anger, “We’ve agreed to take you to he bunker.” Damia didn’t know if it was the pain from the burn, the lack of sleep, or her new concussion but the world, suddenly, went sideways. She caught herself on the table, slipping to the floor. Dean’s face went from cold-hearted killer, to ‘oh no my poor kitten’ in seconds. “Damia.”

“Its fine. I’m.” She breathed, “I smashed my head hard.” She finally reach around, she felt something wet, “shit.” She pulled her hand to look at it. Blood. Dean helped her up, his brother coming back to the door.

“Let me see.” The pain finally stuck her as Sam moved her hair to look at it, she inhaled sharply. Her world started to spin, she hated this, she felt almost helpless. Dean holding her up, someone else tending to her wounds. She was the lone wolf, taking care of herself, but now? Her world was crumbling.

“Thought you weren’t a damsel in distress.” Dean teased her.

“I’m a damsel with a gun against her head.” She told him, another wave of dizziness taking hold of her. Damia’s knees almost buckled, Dean tightened his grip on her. “Should’ve pulled the trigger.” She mumbled.

“No, not when the info you’ve been giving us is so valuable.” Sam stated

“Great, so I am just a whore.” She said slipping again, Dean and Sam caught her this time. Dean took her in his arms and Sam closed the door, walking to the main office to give the keys back.

“You’re not a whore.” Dean said, oddly softly, as he helped her in to the back seat.

“Really? Giving you information for protection? I’m selling something and getting something in return.”

“You held your own pretty well, teasing aside.”

“Yeah.” She scoffed and winced as the collar rubbed on the burn, “If you guys weren’t there, Demetre would have taken me.”

“Not if you weren’t wearing this.” Dean gestured to her neck, she caught his hand.

“It still hurts.” She sighed, he was right. If she was on her own, no collar, she’d be fine.

“How, how does that stop the demon part of you?” Dean was now curious, his asshole facade burned away because of his ill placed concern, so she thought anyway.

“I’m like, the fourth generation, power like that isn’t pure once it reaches a grandchild, let along a great grandchild. I mean, a demon trap can’t hold me, but demon bonds? They don’t care. Witches cage? Also doesn’t care, magic is magic to it. Some.” She pointed, “were made for certain witches.”  

“This was made for you?” She looked over to him.

“Dean.” She choked, “My grandmother wore this when Lord Draven killed her. It was made for _her_.”

“I’m.” Damia had enough strength to push a finger to his lips.

“Save it, this is fucking weird.” Damia didn’t like sappy Dean, it was too, real. Too comforting. He was a hunter, she was a hybrid witch. She was bound to die, by her own people’s hands, or his. It made her world easier. It was black and white. Dean, was making it grey.

“What? I’m concerned.”

“Its weird.”

“So you can handle a gun at your head, but not someone being concerned about you?”  
“Its. Its just easier.”

“What? Thinking you’re going to die after this?”

“Yes. It makes it easier to do what we have to.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> plot progress???

Damia sat in silence as Dean stitched her head, Sam offered to take the collar off in private but she declined. “No, that would damage the trust you have with your brother. It would be incredibly obvious what happened.” She managed to defeat Sam with her words and he let it be. “I'm in pain, but I know that I'm alive.” She told him before he could beat himself up more.

“We should have listened to you and just brought you here first. Maybe you wouldn't be in this condition.”

“Sam, this is not your fault. Please remember that you found me in the middle of being tortured. I have already been through much worse. I also would have been killed days ago had you two not shown up. I am, grateful. Even if I am in pain.”  

Dean made quick work of the stitches, the needle only stung a little. Just 3 quick goes and it was done. “We'll need to keep an eye on it, make sure it doesn't bleed again.”

“Sounds good.”

“So, here are some ground rules. You're staying locked in this room, Sam or myself will come get you and take you to the library. You are not allowed to leave our site. When we need to leave, you pack, when we say run, you run.”

“I get it Dean, I'm a prisoner with loose chains. Break a rule and chains become tighter. This ain't my first rodeo.” Dean looked rather shocked. “I've, accidentally, been involved with some very unsavory people over the years.” He just nodded.

“Still. Rules are rules.”

“Well, yeah. So, I don't leave here, unless you or Sam get me. I do some research and I come back.” She sat on the bed. “Gotta say, nicest cell I've ever been in.” Dean chuckled.

“Let us know when you want to shower, we can walk you down and wait for you.”

“You busy now?” She asked, they had been pretty busy, “I mean, I _can_ wait. You two have been a bit busy.”

“A little less busy thanks to you and your research skills. Come on.” Dean started to walk to the door and Damia followed him, they walked down a few hallways before Dean stopped at a large door. “Showers are through there. I'll be out here.”

“No windows?”

“No, we're, underground.”

“Ah, so I'm shawshanking it then.”

“I'm not giving you no spoon.” Damia laughed with him for a moment before slipping into the locker room. She stripped quickly turning the water to one of the showers on, it was ice cold. She turned it up and let it run, it was old and finicky. It took a few tries to get it between Antarctica and the fires of hell, but she managed. She made quick work of her body, washing only the ends of her hair as to not disturb the new stitches. Damia knew that she was going to have a bit of dried blood in her hair, but she paid no mind. No one but the brothers would see her. She turned off the water and quickly dried herself, putting her old clothes back on. When she got out Dean was playing on his phone.

 

“Boo.”

“Wow, that was quick.”

“Just needed to get the grime off of me. Plus can't completely wash my hair yet.”

“Right.” he nodded, “but still, really quick for a chick.”

“You have no idea.” She chuckled. Dean cocked a brow, she wanted to get use to this. The banter. The familiar, almost trustworthy, faces. A safe place to stay. But she knew that life was long gone. Damia knew that once their mission was done she would either die or leave. She was a tool that they had at their disposal, nothing more. And she needed to remember that. Damia knew, though, that the longer this took, the more trouble she would be in.

“Well, it's good to know that you can get ready in a hurry, if we need to bail or go anywhere quick.” The room she was going to be locked up in approached them quickly.

“Well, I’ve been doing this for a while now. It was adjust, or die.”

“Yeah, with our dad it was, listen to me or you’re going to die.”

“Yeah, with most hunters, that’s the case.”

“You’ve, you’ve met other hunters?”

“Dean, I’m a fucking witch, of course I’ve met other hunters. Normally I am able to get away, without causing too much harm.”

“You really don’t like to hurt people, do you?” Damia scoffed.

“I wasn’t raised in the hunter’s life Dean. I had to adopt it. I was once in charge of taking care of horses, pigs, barn cats. The occasional hurt bird. Hell I even would help Nanny heal other people and witches that ended up at our door. Our family took a vow after what my great uncle did to us. No hexes. No matter what. No matter the threat. No matter the situation. No necromancy, no dark magic, no death magic. Never. Once he stole my great grandmother from us, we ran. We ran for as long as we could. But one by one we were picked off. Not quite quick enough, not smart enough, not powerful enough once we were down to 3, then 2.”

“Then you.”

“Yeah.”

“How old were you?” Damia felt the whip of emotions boil through her for a moment. She didn’t like being brought back to that moment, but she often relieved it in her dreams.

“I was 15.” She told him when he opened the door. “15 when the life I knew was ripped out from beneath me, 15 when.” She couldn’t say the words. Even after 8 bitter years, she couldn’t say them. She could still feel the cold floor beneath her, the pains in her legs, the burning of the bindings that were used. She could still hear her grandmother pleading with Lord Draven, could still hear her sister’s words being muffled by blood. The assault was sudden, unannounced. “It all came crashing down around us.” Was all she could manage to say. Her voice broken and distant, even to her. Dean looked like he wanted to say something, but Sam was calling him from down the hall. “Go, I’ll be here when you guys need anything.” She closed the door for him, she waited to listen for the click of the lock and his steps to fade away. Tears welled up in her eyes as she collapsed to the floor, she didn’t want the memories to come flooding back, but she had no choice but to relive them now.

 

Damia stirred, she felt like the blankets were holding her down as she tried to free her sweat covered skin from them. She has breathing hard, like she had been running. Damia’s throat felt hoarse, as though she had been screaming for her life, she then heard the door click. She froze, still struggling to get her arm free from the material. “Damia?” Sam’s face was filled with worry, he seemed a little relieved when he saw her sitting up in the bed.

“Hey.” She sighed, defeated.

“Are, you okay?”

“Night terrors, I’m fine.” She said, going back to figure out how the hell she managed to trap herself so well. Sam closed the distance between her and the door and started to help her with the blanket.

“It sounded like you were fighting for your life.” Sam freed her and she rubbed her wrist, “I mean, you even woke Dean up.”

“I’m so sorry.” She said meekly.

“No, its okay. Dean filled me in a little, some of what you told him, and with the last few days.” He was being sincere, Damia could feel it in her bones. “I’m not surprised.”

“Still, I’m sorry, I should be the last of your worries, too much to plan.”

“See, that's what I’m afraid of.”

“What, what do you mean? We have a job to do.”

“Yeah, we do, but we shouldn’t be planning on dying at the end of it. We all go home.” Damia scoffed.

“I’m planning on doing what I need to do to see this through.”

“But why does that mean you have to get yourself killed in the process?”

“Why do you care, I’m just a witch.”

“Not all of us hunters see a monster and decide that it should die. We normally only go out when we know there is an issue happening. Do you see us going out into town and massacring a bunch of witches right now?”

“Well, no.” She felt like he was chastising her, like she was a child again. He was good at it, but he was still being kind.

“But there are some that live in town. We have known that for a few years. _But_ , they keep to themselves and haven’t done anything to endanger anyone. So why would we treat you any differently?”

“Um, because I’m locked up?” Damia thoughts wouldn’t keep still, she wasn’t use to people being nice anymore. Not unless there was a hidden agenda, but she was already working for the brothers, what else would they need?

“Because we don’t know you, _yet_. Trust takes time.”

“But, if I was human.”

“There would still be a lot of restrictions.” Damia nodded and sighed, “Its clear to me that it’s been a long time since you met someone you can trust, and I know this isn’t the greatest way to earn it, but I know that Dean and I would like to _earn_ your trust.”

“Oh?” Damia’s eyes widened slightly.

“If we didn’t, you wouldn’t be here.”

“I guess that’s true.”

“Dean is just slow.”

“Hey!” Dean scolded his younger brother from the door, he walked over, shirtless, with a glass of water. “I’m stubborn.” he said triumphantly. Damia flushed slightly and took the water from him when he held it out to her. She drank it greedily, she didn’t realize how dehydrated she was until the water touched her lips.

“You’re also trigger happy.” Damia stated.

“Hey! If I knew this was going to be an ‘attack Dean session’ I wouldn’t have brought you water.” He took the glass from her and put it on the nightstand, “And raising my gun doesn’t mean I’m going to shoot, I could be bluffing.”

“Dean, Pops taught me gun safety, never point a gun at something you don’t intend on shooting.”  
“Well, obviously I live recklessly.” Dean raise a brow, Sam rolled his eyes.

“We’ll leave you, if you have another night terror we will come bug you, but if you don’t, I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast.” Sam motioned for Dean to leave, as they did Dean gave Damia one last glance. It wasn’t a large gesture, and she was sure it was her brain still waking up. But she could swear he looked over his shoulder. With her arm now free she was able to just take in what just happened. Two hunters, who she is assisting, just asked for her trust. She placed a hand on her head to feel the wound Demetre left her, _trusting them couldn’t be worse than trusting that asshole_. Question was, would they actually trust her enough to take off the collar.

 

Damia was in the library again, a sandwich in one hand while she flipped pages with the other. The last few days had been easy for her, the boys would take turns babysitting her and running into town for supplies. Today, though, was a little difference. The brothers had left her with a friend. Some dude named Castiel. She was a little taken back when they announced he was an angel, she had never met one before. He seemed disconnected, it was a much different experience from being in the presence of a demon. The air around you was calm, still, but he was cold and distant. Didn’t smile. Didn’t eat. Didn’t even pretend to _be_ human. But, in the passing hours, Damia grew comfortable in the angel’s silence, his stillness. It was peaceful, and her nerves from the last few days were finally settling. “So, you’re telling me that Dean and Sam found you when they went to raid the witch den?”

“Yeah, it was kind of weird to be honest. I was so ready to die.”

“And now?” She could sense the concern on his lips.

“I mean. No, maybe?” She shrugged, “I mean, the boys are nice. I mean, really nice. Sam has been helping me with my night terrors, Dean is warming up and letting me clean the guns. I feel, useful. But.” She stopped talking and finished her sandwich instead.

“But what Day?” Damia turned her head so fast she swore she gave herself whiplash, no one but her family called her Day.

“What did you just call me?”

“I’m sorry if I have caused some kind of offence, Day would just be a short form of Damia.”

“No, no, its okay. I just. It’s been such a long time since someone called me that. Well, a while since it has been filled with such. Kindness.”

“Sam told me you might have a hard time with me being nice.”

“Is that why you’ve been unbearably quiet?”

“Yes.” Damia smiled, an actual smile cracked her face.

“You guys, really give a shit, don’t you?”

“Yes, we do. Sometimes Sam and Dean get their, feet? Stuck in their mouths, but they mean well.”

“I know what you mean, Dean threatened me twice when they picked me up.”

“Sounds like Dean. He tries to wear a thick armor, but he’s just a softy.”

“What the hell dude!” Dean’s voice echoed in the library as he and Sam walked in. Damia laughed. Which made them all freeze. She couldn’t stop, she just kept laughing at Dean and his reaction, her laughter soon spread to Castiel, then Sam. “What?”

“You.” She wiped a tear from her eye, “you just proved his point.”

“I have a reputation to uphold.” He protested with a smile.

“Oh, Chuck.” Sam said, breaking from the laughter, “I needed that.”

“Me too.” Damia smiled, her heart seemed to be lighter, her chest lest tense.

“Cas texted us, said you found something?”

“Oh! Yes.” She said jumping up from the chair she was on, she ran over to the other side of the table and grabbed an old black book with a spare shirt. She walked to Sam, who met her half way and handed him the book.

“Is it, safe to touch?”

“Oh, yeah.” She pulled on her shirt to show them a new burn mark, “Just, not safe for me.”

“Bound with magic.” Castiel piped up.

“Ah, sorry about that.”

“Not like you did it.” Sam took the book. “Open it to the first page.” The book refused to open, Damia swallowed, brushing her fingers on it and it flew open. The collar burned her again, her face twisted in discomfort.

“Well, I definitely don’t like that.” Dean said, walking up to them.

“Neither do I.” Damia said, tugging at her shirt as it now made her neck hurt. Castiel came up to her with a cold cloth.

“Can’t you just heal her?”

“Nope, that hurts too.” She smiled weakly. Dean shared a look with Sam, one that told her that they needed to do something about the collar, and soon. “Focus.” She pointed at the page. Dean honed in on the list of names.

“Is that?”

“Yeah, that’s my fucking name. Along with all of my family that has passed away.”

“But, if only those that are dead are listed.”

“No, it changed hands. This book, at some point, was in my family. It was meant for me.”

“This has been in here, for ages.”

“Yup, and it wasn’t locked away, which leads me to believe that my family, this is so weird, also had ties to the Men of Letters. Cas and I have been trying to read through the member ledgers, but nothing, so far.”

“Well, there is a chance that they wouldn’t have recorded it.” Dean admitted.

“Or the person was here in secret.” Sam added.

“Regardless, this book, has the answer you need to defeat Lord Draven.”

“Don’t you mean _we_?” Dean asked.

“No, I mean you. Both of you. I can’t use my magic, or touch this book without being in pain, turn to page, what was it?” She looked over at Castiel.

“Its like, in the middle, in and around 100 pages. I lost count as we were flipping through.”

“It has a giant black rose on it.” Sam started to flip through the book frantically. She assumed he found the page as his eyes widened. He was trying to read it. “I know, its in Gaelic. I can’t read it in its entirety, and even though Cas knows the language he can read it only a little better than me.”

“Gaelic was never a language that interested me.”

“Its okay Cas. Anyway.” She said sitting down, “You can use that spell, or potion, to wipe out the witches in a particular area. It seems to have house dimensions?”

“I think we know someone that can read this.” Sam said, but didn’t smile.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Dean said dryly, “King o’ Hell.”

“What?” Damia asked in shock.

“Old Irish bugger. Mother is a witch, so, he might be able to help use out with it all. If he is in the mood.” Sam closed the book, “for now we will keep this book closed, until we know more about what you found.”

“Hey, did you, ya know, try to translate it on the internet?” Dean asked in an attempt to not contact this king.

“Yeah, but, its an old dialect, and I haven’t been able to find any books that will help us with translations either.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise?

Damia had been wondering around the library while Sam cooked breakfast. Dean walked her to the showers again but told her she could just go to the library without him. He was planning on taking her out with them, something about needing to get their hands on a demon. Apparently one liked to frequent a weekend car show and had a thing for girls who likes cars. Damia had to laugh at it though, it seemed so normal. Lucky, for them, she knew quite a bit about the older model cars, like Dean’s Impala. Growing up with an old fart on a farm had its benefits, like knowing how to fix an engine. Wouldn’t teach her to drive, as he didn’t want her running off, but he taught how to fix it. She made sure she looked all dolled up, but unfortunately, she wasn’t like ‘other girls’. The only things she had that would be considered sexy were her fishnets and corsets. And she only grabbed a few things when they ran. So she stood, walking around the library in navy pumps and a black layered skirt. In her defence it was shorter, mid-thigh, so it should pass? Right? She grabbed a shirt that was cut low and wore a pentagram harness under the deep plunge. Managed to do some makeup too. Felt weird as she had been in jeans, yoga pants, a leather jacket, or pjs for the last few months. Felt nice to dress up. “Holy shit.” She heard Sam’s voice, she turned around and his jaw was slacked.

“What?”

“I, ah.” He straightened himself, “I don’t know why it didn’t dawn on me until now that you are a goth.” Damia laughed.

“I know, the band shirts should have been a dead give away.” She teased.

“Plus the yoga pants with the pentagram.”

“Did you think that was a witch thing?” She scrunched her face.

“Honestly, yes.”

“That’s tacky.”

“That’s what I thought.” They laughed. They were so wrapped up in their moment that they didn’t notice that Dean had walked into the room. Damia noticed him first, his eyes fixated on her in a way that normally would have made her uncomfortable. His face was soft, his eyes dancing over her. She didn’t know how long he had been there, but he was just, watching. 

“Hey.” Damia said, breaking the laughter first. Dean’s attention was snapped back to her face.

“Morning.” He almost choked out. Damia thought it was odd, but chose to ignore it. There was already way to many things to do today.

“We should eat, then leave.” She said, getting down to business, Sam led the way and she followed close behind him, still teasing him about the yoga pants. The only other sound, other than Sam and her teasing each other, was the sound of her heels. Dean remained silent. Which, for him, was odd. She didn’t know the boys that well, but something in her gut told her this wasn’t normal.

 

They ate, with some speed, without much conversation. Sam was staying behind with Cas so that they could come in to the rescue if they needed any help, and to get the meeting place ready. They needed the demon to call for this other demon named Crowley. Apparently he wasn’t answering his phone, Damia wanted to ask, but decided it was too odd. Damia sat in the passenger seat, enjoying the default music Dean put on, the windows were down and they were jamming to the tunes. “So, you going to be a good girl?” Dean broke song and asked her, his voice was deep and vibrated in her ribs. Her stomach tightened and her breath was caught in her throat.  _ Fuck _ , she thought. She was not ready for that question, not ready to hear it from him. 

“Dean.” She said, almost choked out, “dude.”

“What?” He said, glancing over at her, “You’re supposed to be my girlfriend.” He shrugged.

“The last time someone asked me that.”

“Oh, is it one of those things, you know, before all this?” Dean looked worried as he drove, pulling over quickly. Damia chuckled softly.

“No.” She dragged the word out. She smiled and shook her head, “No, it’s not a memory trigger. Well. Not a bad one anyway.”

“Then what?”

“Oh, please, like you don’t have any kinks.” She narrowed her eyes on him, understanding spread through Dean’s features. Then she saw the smirk,  _ double fuck _ .

“Oh, you’re one of  _ those  _ girls.” He smiled wickedly, “Today is going to be fun.”

“Fuck you dude.”

“Gotta get back at you for all of the jokes at my dispense.”

“You are the worst.” She grumbled as he turned back onto the road. This, was going to be a long, long day. Her thigh squeezed involuntarily,  _ traitor _ . She wanted to roll her own eyes at herself.

“What? Might work to our benefit, demon’s like kinky girls. Plus, you’re already wearing a collar.” Damia breathed out slowly, her knuckles white from clenching them. Dean started to chuckle.

“Oh, I swear, when this is over, I’m going to make you pay.” She told him, he chuckled more.

“I’m sure you will, but whatever you throw at me, this is totally worth it.” Although Damia wanted to be pissed, about being outed, and the obvious day of teasing and torment, she couldn’t. She glanced over to Dean, who was still singing to the tunes playing, and then looked back to the road. If anyone was going to tease her, it might as well be him. He was hot, looked like a badass, and had a nice car, and he  _ was  _ funny. Smart. Sure, he threatened to kill her, twice, but it comes with the territory. _ Must be Stockholm _ , she thought and rolled her eyes. However, Dean had been growing on her, and he had been trusting her more. So if she had to endure his nonsense for the day, then she would. But, she would most definitely have to ramp up the jokes and move on to pranks after this. No way she was going to let him get away without a scratch for knowing her weakness.

 

A few hours had passed by, she was leaning on front of the Impala, being careful not to put her heels or anything metal on the paint. She had been there for a while, sucking on a popsicle that Dean bought her. He was nice enough to just leave her alone though. He went to walk around and take a look at the other vehicles and left her as bait. Wasn’t the first time she was bait, but it  _ was  _ the first time she offered to do it. She smiled at the people who came near the car, indulged in light conversation and soft flirting. Most of the men there were older, and with their wives. She was trying to keep an eye out for someone around their early 40s, apparently it was a good things she was on the goth side of things because this particular demon had a thing for edgy chicks. “Hey.” A low voice pulled her from her thoughts.

“Oh, hi.” She smiled sweetly at the guy standing in front of her.

“This your car?” He smiled wickedly at her. Confidence and power surged around her, the demon came for the bait.

“Sort of.” She shrugged, finishing the Popsicle and keeping the stick in her mouth, “It’s my boyfriends.”

“What a shame.”

“What’s a shame?” She asked, innocently, pulling the stick out and taping it on her lips.

“Oh well, I was hoping that, you’d take me for a ride.” Damia wanted to roll her fucking eyes at him. What a cocky little shit.

“Well, I’m sure something could be arranged.” She said, playing with the witch collar, if she wasn’t who she was. If she wasn’t in this life, she would have missed the flash of black in his eyes. 

“Is that so?” He almost growled.

“Hey babe.” Dean said, walking up behind the demon and then passed him. Dean did his best not to turn around, he may have been outed, but then he decided to be a huge dick. He planted a leg between hers and leaned into her, Damia’s hand grabbed the bottom of his shirt as he leaned in, “I see you’ve been a good girl.” Her body involuntarily shuttered and her grip on his shirt tightened.

“Yes.” She half choked out.

“She’s been, a very good girl.” The demon stated, getting closer. Without hesitation Dean turned around and slapped a silver cuff onto one of the demon’s wrists. “Winchester.” The demon growled. 

“Want that bugger off, then play ball and get in the back.” Dean said darkly. Damia pushed herself off the hood.

“You suck.” She told Dean and walked over to the passenger side, tossing the popsicle stick in the trash.

“Hey, it worked.”

“I’m not saying it didn’t.” She said as he got in, she was buckling her seatbelt, “I’m just saying that you suck.” 

“You liked it.” He joked.

“Dude!” She pointed to the demon in the backseat.

“Oh, no no, please continue.” He took a deep breath in, “Might be worth all this in the end, if it’s a deal you’re after.” Damia wanted to crawl back and choke the ever loving shit out of the demon.

“I’m going to kill him when we’re done.” Damia told Dean.

“You can do whatever you want, little one, when I’m done with you, you’ll be begging for more.” Damia rolled her eyes as Dean started to drive off. 

“Hey Dean.” She heard Castiel, “This him?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll see you at the farm.” Then Castiel and the demon vanished.

“ _ That _ was new.”

“What?” Dean asked, driving the opposite direction of the bunker.

“Cas showing up, and then vanishing.”

“You get use to it.”

“How the hell did he even know to come?”

“I prayed.”

“Are you for real?”

“Yeah, you can pray to Cas and he will hear you. But that isn’t the problem, its whether or not he can come and answer said prayer.”

“So, you’re telling me, I could have just prayed for Cas to come get me earlier and I would have avoided your bullshit?” Dean chuckled.

“Yeah, but, that would have ruined the fun and we wouldn’t have been able to get that flesh suit wearing bastard so quickly. He really let his guard down with you.”

“Thanks? I think?”

“I’m not saying you’re easy, just easy on the eyes.”

“Oh, my god, I’m going to make the next week of your existence an absolute living hell.”

“Been there.”

“I promise you, I am worse.”

“With or without your magic.”

“Both.” Dean’s hand found it’s way on her thigh.

“Is that so?” He squeezed it and her body betrayed her. Her thigh forced themselves together and her breath hitched, her voice squeaked. “Fuck.” She heard him say. She closed her eyes as his hand moved further up, her legs spreading slightly for him.  _ Traitor _ , she thought when her body made room for him. 

“Dean.” She said in a breathy moan as his hand grazed up her thigh, goosebumps following his touch. “Dean, if you continue you’re going to have to get your car detailed.” He let out a throaty growl.

“I have extra cash.” Damia shuttered again, “But, I’ll relent, the barn isn’t far from here and I think I’ve been a big enough dick.” Damia breathed out.

“Thanks.” She smiled to herself. Damia’s mind was reeling, her body invited him so willingly, betraying her internal struggle.  _ Must have a direct connection to my heart, it never listens _ , she thought. She closed her eyes and bit her lip replaying his voice in her mind over and over again.

“But I didn’t hear a ‘stop’.”

“No, you didn’t.” She replied, she saw his knuckles go white from gripping the steering wheel. Dean cleared his throat as he turned on to a dirt road, the bumpiness of the drive was not helping as the vibrations shot through her body. She didn’t realize how worked up she was until she was pushing her thighs together for pressure and friction. Dean shifted gears and Damia gripped the hem of her skirt as one of her legs twitched.

“Oh, sweet god.”

“Shut up.” She said in a squeaky voice.

“Is this what you were thinking about last night?” Damia shot him a look, it bordered on terror.

“You were moaning my name on the couch, your legs shaking.” Damia thought she was embraced before, but her face must have been bright red because Dean laughed, his voice low. “I thought you were awake at first, but then I realized you were sleeping.”

“And you didn’t wake me?”

“And give up the moment of my name leaving your lips, not a fucking chance Day.” He turned onto a smaller road, Damia could see the barn, “I would listen to that, all, fucking, night.” He slowed down and parked the car, “And now that I know that you like to be a good girl and like it when I drive a little rough, well. I’m not going to give this up anytime soon.” His thumb graced her bottom lip and she licked the tip. “Now, you be a  _ good girl _ for me Damia, and lets get this shit over with so I can reward you.” Her whole body shivered, a small moan leaving her lips.

“You fucking suck.” She said to him as he opened his door. The only reply she got was a wide cocky smiled from Dean. She quickly opened her door and got out, fixing her shirt and skirt as she was not all to aware of how they hugged her. She cursed the day that she discovered her kinks, because she wanted to be a  _ good girl _ for Dean. 

 

Damia walked into the barn after Dean, the demon was now bound to a chair and a large demon’s trap was around him. Cas and Sam were standing around the demon they caught, Sam sported a blade in his hands. Damia looked over at Cas, who looked, confused and exasperated. “Go on, cut me from head to toe. I’ll probably like it.”

“Probably would, demon.” Damia spoke before anyone else could.

“Ah, there you are princess.” Damia chuckled as she walked passed the boys.

“I am no princess, sweety.”

“Oh, I bet. I bet you’re a girl who likes to be put on her knees.” Damia was in the circle now, her heels sitting in between the designs. She had done this dance so many times it felt like she was meant for this. She stuck a thumb into the collarbone of the vessel the demon wore. A fire ignited in her, thanks to the fuel Dean had given her, as the demon winced and writhed until the terrible pressure she was applying. She finally heard the snap of the bone and the demon cried, in pain. 

“There we are.” She said darkly, “Now, call this Crowley for the boys, or I’ll ask for the collar to be removed.” She heard someone shift behind her.

“No.”

“Awe, you want some more?” She teased the demon, pushing her index and middle finger into the bone she had just broken. The demon tried to shift violently in his chair. “No?” She let go and walked behind him, her other hand finding his place on his other clavicle. “Now, I will ask again, call for Crowley.”

“Miss, please, I can’t. He’ll kill me if I do.” It’s voice was shaky.

“Demon, those boys over there, they are the only thing that separates you from me. The tall one there, all he has to do is unlock this cage I am in and you. Dear, sweet demon, will be nothing but ash and soot in my hands. No smoking out for you little thing. No healing, nothing. Just death. And I am damn sure that Death is looking forward to collecting you, isn’t that right?” Her eyes flicked to Dean, whose arms were folded, face stoic and unfeeling.

“Who are you.”

“I am, how did your brothers and sisters put it, the Blood Moon Witch.” The demon must have looked shocked because Dean and Sam shared a glance.

“Wha- what? She is dead, Draven killed her, Demetre told us.” She laughed darkly in his ear.

“No.” The demon tensed.

“Prove it.” 

“If you really want me to.” She broke his other clavicle, the demon hissed in pain. “You want me to continue with my hands, or move onto something a little, sharper?” She said holding her hand out to Sam, she winked at him and he started to give her the blade.

“What is all this fuss about?” A new voice sounded, a thick and heavy accent that Damia thought she had forgotten, “Really, you got caught, you got  _ us  _ caught?” Damia turned on her heels, missing the lines that Cas and Sam had drawn,

“Grampa Fergi?” Her heart stilled in her chest as her breath was caught in her lungs, the blade dropping to the floor.

“Firefly?” Fergus’ voice mimicked her own astonishment. 

“Gramps!” She half shouted and lunged to hug him, her brave and cold demeanour shattered as he hugged her back. Pops told her that he was dead, that he couldn’t help them. She held him and started to cry.

“Firefly.” He said softly to her, tears dripping down her cheeks already, “Don’t cry.” He said brushed her tears away, his voice cracking. “What have you done to my great, great granddaughter.” She could feel the darkness in his voice as he addressed the Winchesters and Cas.

“Gramps, no. Not them.” Her voice was shaky. He lifted and then dropped the collar, “Believe it or not, they saved me from Lord Draven and Demetre.” His eyes were kind on her, they always where.

“Then why the tears, why the dramatics?” He motioned around them, he looked pained.

“You weren’t answering your phone.” Dean stated.

“I thought you were dead.” Damia breathed out. Fergus hugged her again, she could feel his pain around her.

“I thought  _ you  _ were dead.” He hugged her tightly, “Demetre told me you died, years ago.” There was then a rumble and the floor cracked the sigal that was under their feet. “Don’t worry boys, what do you want? Anything, no deal. No strings. Tell me what you want and let her go.”

“ _ We _ , need help bringing Lord Draven down gramps.” Fergus’ eyes went to the demon and the chains that bound him were gone.

“Find Demetre, bind him, and call me when it’s done.”

“Yes my King.” The demon vanished.

“So you’re going to help?” Dean seemed to be in disbelief.

“Yes, and then some. Demetre was supposed to be my left hand man, but it seems that he has been telling me half truths.”

“What do you mean?” Damia asked.

“Oh, Firefly.” He shook his head slowly, “He told me that Lord Draven had been taken care of a few years back, before I became King of Hell. He said he would avenge my family for me while I got hell situated. He told me that when he killed Draven that he found you, dead.”

“And you didn’t think to ask questions?”

“The house was ashes when I got there, Squirrel.” Fergus said darkly. 

“None of that matters right now.” Damia said wiping the rest of this tears from her cheeks. “Lord Draven is trying to fucking breed me gramps. He and Demetre want to make a fucking army of demon witches.” Fergus started to curse under his breath.

“This is what I get from trusting a fucking Incubus. One fucking task, look after you. I should have killed him when I found out he was dating you.” He looked down, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I should have been able to see passed his lies.”

“He has a silver tongue, I can forgive you for that.” Damia confirmed. “I did give him a good wound last time he popped by.”

“I know, he told me the Winchesters did it, but, I get why he had to lie. Keep me believing you were dead. I am going to make him bleed.”

“We can make them all bleed gramps. Demetre, the covens, all of them. But I want Draven. He took, all of them away from me.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one got the good bits in it.

Dean walked Damia back to the car after they all spoke with Crowley, he was taken by surprise about the way everything turned around. No pleading, no begging, no deals. Damia even looked a little happier. “So, what the hell was that in there?”

“What?” All of the blood drained from her face as she looked over the top of the car at him.

“The bone breaking.” She looked slightly embarrassed.

“I, um. I had to learn a few things when I was with Demetre. It was do this or, well.”

“Die?”

“Yes. Earned a name, but I never did anything beyond what was necessary, Demetre normally did that.” She said, bitterness holding onto her words. He opened his door and got in, Damia following suit. 

“I get that, I wasn’t asking because I thought you enjoyed it. I wanted to make sure you’re alright. And, thank you.” A soft blush graced her cheeks.

“Um, you’re welcome, but I didn’t really  _ do  _ anything.” She shrugged, Dean’s eyes wandered to the hem of her skirt and her fishnets again.

“You tricked a demon into calling your grampa without magic, I think that deserves a thank you. And you did it with a lot less violence than me or Sam could have managed.” He turned the engine over, revving it a little as he started to pull away from the barn, “We should probably head straight back, they’ll be expecting us.”

“Yeah.” Damia responded sheepishly. He was going to have to watch himself now that Crowley was involved. Sure, he put up with him and Sam, but he didn’t want to go as far as trusting that he wouldn’t flay him alive for sleeping with his great great granddaughter.

 

Damia paced the war room, Dean and Sam destroyed a few wardings here and there so that Fergus could be in certain places. She was happy to have a piece of her family back, but there was a tug in her gut. Dean stopped all advances, not even light flirting for the last few days. Damia felt a bit hurt, but she also understood that there was a more pressing matter. Draven. “So, you’re telling me that he has about, 70? Witches.” Sam confirmed, mostly asking, Fergus.

“Yes.” 

“Plus the almost 80 that Lord Silver has. Don’t forget boys, this is not a single head fight. We’re going to have to take down both houses.” She reminded them.

“That will leave a power vacuum.” Castiel pointed out.

“I know, but I am aware of a few, smaller, covens that wish to band together. They just need someone to start the fire.”

“And they will join us?”

“Some will, others are pacifists. They don’t want bloodshed, they want freedom.”

“Some types of freedom require bloodshed.” Fergus said, the space now falling silent, “Are  _ you  _ up for it?” His question was pointed at her.

“I will do only what is necessary.”

“And if you have to kill someone Firefly.” Damia stood still, all their eyes on her.

“Then I will have to do it. Its us or them, right? Nanny and pops are dead. You’re not. This is all we got.” She shrugged, “If there is time to change tactics, if there is any shred of hope left in me, then its now.”

“Then it’s settled, we all go.” Sam said, more confidently than when this all started.

“What about her collar?” Fergus demanded, again.

“Gramps.”

“No, we need all hands on deck, real or magic.” 

“He’s right.” Dean spoke up. They all stared at him, stunned, “What? We need more fire power than we have now, so yeah, collar off.” He snapped his fingers at his brother. Sam handed him his keyes and Dean walked behind her, moving her hair out of the way softly. He unlocked it and the metal fell to the ground with a clank. It was immediately in Fergus’ hands, along with the key. It melted and oozed onto the floor.

“Gramps!”

“This is never hurting you again.” If looks could kill, Dean and Sam would be dead in that moment. Fergus then smiled, “I’ll be back in a few days and we will head out sugar.” He then vanished. Everyone let out a breath of relief.

“I too, will be back in a few days.” Cas then disappeared.

“Well, that went smoother than expected.” Sam said.

“I’d say.” Dean stated.

“I’m hungry, I’m going to go get some food, you two want anything?”

“Cheeseburger.” Her and Dean said, almost in unison. “Only ketchup on mine.” Damia said looking over at Dean, confused twisting her face. Sam only chuckled.

“I’ll be back soon.”

“Grab some more beer!” Dean half shouted as Sam made his way down the hall. Damia watched Dean as he turned back to her. She watched his eyes skirt from hers to her neck.

“Sorry bout Fergus, he is. Protective.” Dean smiled, “I know not having the collar on makes you nervous.” She touched her neck.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that.” He said closing the distance between them, “I have another collar that you could wear.” Damia looked up into his lust blown eyes, “If you’re a good girl.” He almost growled. He captured her lips in a breath of a second, her thoughts stopping in their tracks and causing a train wreck of chaos in her mind. He tasted like whiskey, but he had a sweet undertone, she moaned into his mouth. He tightened his grip on her. His kiss was heated and demanding, like he had been just waiting. His pent up frustration being taken out on her lips, and she wanted more. Dean pushed Damia into the desk she was near, propping her up on the surface. She moaned as he trapped her hands behind her back. “Oh god, I need more of that.” He let go, “But I think we should take this somewhere, else. Somewhere Crowley can’t drop by.” He winked. Damia raise a brow.

“You room or mine?”

“Mine.” He almost growled.

“You use to Cas carrying you around?”

“Well yeah.”

“Eyes closed.” Dean looked at her with curiosity and he closed his eyes. She snapped her fingers and landed on his bed with him standing in the middle of his room. He opened his eyes in shock. “I can’t go far, but it's useful enough.” Dean’s face cracked into a smile. He walked over to her, almost stalking towards the bed. He took her hand and yanked her up into his arms, her toes barely touching the floor as he attacked her lips again. He then swung her around to look at a mirror on the back of the door.

“So, about that collar.” He said pulling a small leather piece out of his jeans.

“You kept that on you?”

“I just got back from getting it.” He growled in her ear. Damia had been with many creatures and men, but Dean. He was the cherry on top. Everything about him was calling her now. His voice vibrating on her skin, the roughness in which he held her. Her core was on fire. He moved her hair from her neck again, gently placing the soft leather on her skin. She looked up and chuckled, the collar had a small crescent moon punched into it.

“It’s adorable.”

“You should take a look on the inside.” He chuckled into her skin.

“Oh? What does it have on the inside.”

“Property of D.W.” Damia laughed softly and smiled up at him.

“You sure?”

“I’ve been sure about a few things in my life, I’m glad to be adding you to the short list.” He turned her around stealing a soft kiss from her. “I’m ready to learn everything about you Damia.” Her heart was caught in her chest, she felt her face flush softly, knowing she now has missed a few beats. She finally breathed out and her body relaxed into his.

“I like being choked.” Dean’s hand raise and cupped her cheek and he kissed her softly once more.

“Double tap for me to let go, and you word?”

“Mustard.”

“Mustard?”

“I don’t like it.” She smiled and in an instant his face turned stoic and his hand wrapped around her throat, pushing the soft leather into her skin. She gasped at his sudden change. Moaning and closing her eyes as he squeezed.

“We’ll go slow.” Damia squeaked in response, nodding her head as best she could, “Colour?”

“Green.” She breathed out. Dean stole her lips, biting her bottom lip as he moved down to her jaw and neck. Leaving sweat bruising marks here and there on her neck line, moving his hand as he had to. Damia wrapped her hand in his shirt and pulled it tightly, fighting her knees as they threatened to let her fall. Dean let go over her neck and pulled the hem of her shirt up, his lips leaving her skin as he lifted the shirt over her head. Damia could feel his rough hands explore her, with a feral need she had never experienced before.  “Dean.” She moaned softly as he bit her nipple through the thin lace of her bra. He groaned in approval, moving to the other nipple. She arched into his hold on her and he unclasped her bra, unwrapping her, slowly. He went back into playing with her now freed breasts, kissing and licking at the soft skin, kneading the other one with his capable hands. Damia held on to him for dear life, her moan caught in her throat as his free hand dipped down the sweatpants she was wearing. He groaned gain into her nipple as he ran his fingers over her bare pussy.

“Commando?” He said into her flesh.

“Yes.” She moaned as he started to draw circles on her clit, “Ah! In the washer.” She did her best to say. She couldn’t believe how sensitive she was already, but then again, he teased her a few days ago and did nothing to relieve her. He stopped everything and tossed her on the bed, he dropped to his knees and slowly pulled off her pants, kissing her thighs as he finally dragged them off her ankles. He kissed up her thigh and pulled her body down to him, using his tongue to trace her clit. Damia threw her head back onto the bed, not able to control the spasms that took hold of her. She wanted to watch him, but it was too much. Instead she moaned loudly and clenched the sheets until her knuckles turn white. Dean continue to eat her out like he was on a mission, ignoring her first orgasm he slowly pushed a finger into her wet folds. Her hips jumped up as she arched her back, making him chuckle and moan. 

“So, needy.” He teased her, sliding another finger into her, pushing them in and bending them up. 

“Dean!” She screamed, he moaned into her clit, working his fingers harder. Her body shuttered and she clenched down on his fingers, pulling another moan from his lips, the vibrations felt over her entire body. He slowed down as she steadied her breathing.

“Still green?” Damia bit her lip.

“You training me or something?” He gave her a look that confirmed it, “Yes, green.” She breathed out. Dean crawled over her, taking his shirt off as he did, leaving him in his jeans.

“I want to make sure I know what you sound like when you’re good. So I can tell if something has changed.” He kissed her, Damia drove her tongue into his mouth to taste herself on him. They moaned together.

“So, we’re going to practice a lot then?” She almost moaned into his mouth.

“I fucking hope so.” He chuckled softly. He backed up and she followed him, undoing his belt and button. He moved off the bed and she sat on her knees, watching him as he shimmied out of his jeans.

“You’re clothes aren’t in the laundry.”

“Oh, this was planned.” Damia looked at him, a gush of want hitting her core again. His cock rock hard, bouncing as he climbed back onto the bed. He took her throat back into his hand, “Two taps and I let go.” He reaffirmed. Damia could only moan as he squeezed, “I don’t think I’m ever going to get tired of that. You want to be a good girl, don’t you?” He said darkly, using her neck to push her back to the bed. “Don’t you.”

“Yes.” She choked out.

“Yes what?” He demanded, his grip loosening slightly.

“Yes I want to be a good girl.”

“Good, but there will be more time for that.” He said turning her head slightly to look at the wall of floggers and whips, “Maybe we’ll go through them later, you can pick your favourites.” Damia mewled and arched her back thinking about the leather hitting her skin. Not a moment more and Dean started to push himself into her soaking heat, moaning as he stretched her out. Damia let out a strangled moan as she gripped his arm and the sheets, moaning as loudly as his hand would allow her. Dean leaned over her as he started to pull out and push himself back into her, she started to roll her hips with him. “Fuck, yes, Day, just like that.” Dean moaned as they continued to move with each other, every now again again he would tighten and loosen his grip. This would cause Damia to moan loudly, choking against his grip. Dean started to thrust a little harder, each time would draw a sound from Damia’s lips. “Cum for me Day, be a good girl and fucking cum.” He demanded of her as he sat up, using his other hand to circle her clit. Damia crashed, hard, yelping and moaning as her body shuttered. She closed her eyes tightly and finally sounds stopped escaping her lips until she started to come down from her high. A loud, low groan finally echoing through her lungs. Dean pulled her up to him, releasing her neck and holding her to him, kissing her with a hungry need. “Knees, now.” He said between breathes, Damia only nodded, her body becoming jelly. Dean slipped out of her and she groan in protest, making him chuckle. Damia moved to her hands and knees, Dean then moved her to her elbows.

“Green.” She said without his prompt, earning her a soft kiss.

“Good.” He said, his deep voice vibrating through her. He pushed back into her without warning. She moaned loudly, as her voice was now hers again. “Oh, god, do you scream?” She moaned again as he pushed back into her, hard.

“Yes.” She managed to say as he pulled again, she forced her body to relax, her anticipation building. His hands found a home on her hips and he squeezed.

“Lets see how loudly.” Dean thrusted into her, a bruising pace. His hand gripped her tightly as she held onto the sheets, yelling and moaning at every thrust. 

“Yes!” She yelled, “Fuck, Dean!” She squealed loudly, which rewarded her with a loud moan from him, “Right there, Dean.” She felt her body started to tighten, her cored clenching, his movements started to falter. He pushed into her harder. She finally clamped down on him and screamed his name, feeling him spasm inside of her as she saw starts from behind her lids. He slowed down, dragging out their pleasure as they got their breathing under control. Damia collapsed onto the bed and he fell beside her, she felt a gush of liquids and she sighed looking over at him.

“Give me a second.” He panted, “I’ll grab a warm towel.” He smiled. She laughed softly and waved her hand lazily.

“All clean, this time.” She winked.

“Awe, baby.” He kissed her lips softly, pulling her closer.

“We will discuss aftercare later.”


End file.
